(Please listen to the song above while reading this chapter! It's Say Something by A Great Big World and Christina Aguilera)

Alexander's POV:

Everything is dull and dark. What's the point of being happy when Clarissa is being injured? What's fair in that?

How can I be happy when I hurt every time I hear her screams?

I lie on my bed, staring at the blank white ceiling; I let the darkness overcome me.

Ear-splitting shrieks rain over me, cascading down, echoes of the ones that fled from Clarissa's mouth as her Mother gently cut her pale skin, leaving scars that will last forever. I ran upstairs the minute her pain started, I couldn't take listening to her.

But I feel like I've betrayed her and all of the girls. I abandoned them the moment they confirmed their pain.

The darkness that has become me tugs at the strings that tie me to reality.

And I let the strings be cut. Who needs a sick, heartbroken, useless prince anyways?

I cannot make a difference in the world, not with advisors hawking over my every move. I can't make someone's happily ever after; I'll never get my happily ever after.

Even in the darkness the pain surges through me. I'll never get my happily ever after.

It could be Clarissa, Eleanor, any of the girls left. Any of them could be my One, but they are kidnapped, held hostage, and tortured. It's not human for me to be keeping them here. Especially the girls whom I feel only a minimal connection with. By keeping them here, I'm endangering them.

This has happened before; it can happen again. We can try to stop the Rebels, and we have a few leads as to where they are currently, but we can never completely eliminate opposition against us.

An hour ago, Gillian came to tell me that there are now ten different groups of guards looking for The Selected. As my sister, she knows me slightly better than my parents do. She understands me, everything that weighs me down and everything that holds me up.

We talked over the danger that The Selected are in every second they stay at the Palace and decided that I need to let most of them go. That I need to narrow it down to the Elite.

I'm nervous I will make the wrong decisions, be too forward, and that whoever I choose will back out on me. I don't want The One to be scared of everything that comes along with me. I want her to love me, wether I'm royal or not.

§§§§§

Clarissa's POV:

My cuts sting, again and again, all at once, to the point where it feels as if I'm rotating my hand on a bed of sharp, thin needles.

I grimace from the pain. I feel broken, not just physically but mentally.

How horrid must I be if my Mother finds pleasure in bringing a knife to my skin? In hearing my screams and shrieks of helplessness echo through the space? In the knowledge that people I love can't do anything about those shrieks?

Does Dad even know about this?

A sob tears out of me, searching for sadness in someone else, escaping the prison that is my thoughts. Endless questions, doubting myself, knowing I'm not good enough for anyone.

The sluggish seconds turn into minutes, that turn into hours. My face feels numb from endless tears pouring down it. My nightgown is torn and dirty, the gentle baby blue color disguised in dirt.

The beauty of life disguised by a horrendous experience.

Is that all my story will come to? Is that all my life will amount to? A beautiful possibility stolen by the unfairness of the world.

And all of the other girls here. All of their possibilities, lost in the disaster that is our country. A fresh set of tears is awakened, thinking of the marvelous futures they all might lose. The only time I saw them was when we went on the stage-like area for the broadcast.

I hope Alexander saw. I hope he's trying to help us, he must be.

I was only aware of my surroundings for the first three minutes or so, but the moment I felt l the cold knife digging into my skin, the warm blood rising to the surface, everything was unfocused.

I zone out, attempting and failing to not think about my situation.

So I sit. And wait.

I don't know what I'm waiting for, though. There's nothing worth the wait.

§§§§§

"Hey! Hey!"

"In here, fast!"

"Notify Master, now!"

People are screaming, yelling commands, groaning in frustration. Suddenly someone appears outside my cell door. Through the bars, I can barely make out the male figure.

I press myself tight against the wall, hoping to be missed. Maybe I can slip out of the cell when the rebel isn't looking and escape in the confusion.

Unfortunately, when the rebel steps inside his eyes immediately turn to me.

I shriek and jump down, immediately raising my knee to him. He immediately hops up and down, whimpering slightly through his pain.

As I look at him for a second, admiring my handiwork, I realize that he's not a rebel.

Oh, no. Even though he's not wearing a uniform, his recently shaven face, shortly cropped hair, defined muscles, formal attitude, everything about him screams palace guard.

And how did I not notice this? Immediately I bend down, apologizing, "I'm so sorry! So, so, so sorry! I thought you were a rebel. Are we safe to leave? Can you stand up?" I start freaking out, wondering if he is in too much pain to walk.

He laughs, trying to make light of the situation. "I'll be fine, Lady Clarissa. Let's get you out of here."

Again, I start crying. I'm leaving. Finally. Alexander found us, they all found us! "Thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!" I repeat the phrase like it's a mantra, hoping for the safety of the other Selected but knowing not to ask.

The guard looks out, motioning for me to follow.

The hallways is deserted, apparently everyone else already left. We sprint through the mansion, and soon catch up to the other Selected, guards, and rebels, who are engaged in a fight.

My guard looks at me, worriedly, and quickly tells me, "Get out of here, fast. Through that door." He points to a side entrance that I assume leads outside, to where guards should be waiting. "They know you're his favorite, go qu-"

He falls, and as I look in the direction he fell from, I see a gun pointed at me, held by a gruffly rebel. Again, Dante. "Well, well, the favorite. Little Princess, you will never see your Prince again. I can't say I'm sad to see you go, and well, your Mother feels the same."

I don't even let his words get to me. They go in one ear and out the other. I just casually raise an eyebrow and sprint to the door. I don't have time to look at the guard, and a pang of guilt races through me.

I almost stop to go back to him, but I'm so close to the door. I'm slowing down when a bullet comes so close to me, it skims my leg lightly.

Any thoughts of turning back are erased in my mind, and I race the rest of the distance to the door.

I yank it open and run, run, run, outside. I look back, and rebels as well as guards and Selected as flooding out of the door.

Well, the people still alive are.